


Tending to Flowers

by notcrindy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Omega Flowey - Freeform, Photoshop Flowey, mostly just mother & son sadness, no it isn't finished expect more, this is very much some kind of au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9221534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrindy/pseuds/notcrindy
Summary: Someone has to tend to these flowers. A tale of a mother's love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> wow, i'm back with another fic!! i'm still working on "Flowerpot," but this was so vividly in my head when i woke up this morning that i had to get it down. don't know if it's going to be a one-shot or another story, but i do hope you enjoy it somehow. very, very much an AU. i also feel like you should know i listened to "I Am Made of Chalk" by Crystal Castles through writing most of this.

“There’s a crack in the glass.”

He hadn’t even responded at first, lost in his own thoughts.

He’d just been out in the garden tending to flowers, part of his usual morning routine. Usually not much disturbed this; they all knew how much the King liked to garden. It was considered a fanciful habit in times like these to be sure, but the King was a pretty fanciful person in most cases. He was deliberate in all he did. No one could trust a flower; it was one of this world’s constants, and yet he often found peace among them or made tea out of them without a second thought. No one dared to question him.

Usually.

Someone had a question for him now, and these things were bound to happen. He was understanding. It was one of the qualities of a truly great king; he prided himself on his ability to relate to the common folk, especially since he had to push everyone so hard these days. It was true that he didn’t like to be interrupted, but as this question came, he didn’t mind it much.

“Uh, sir?” The voice tried again, slightly awkward and hesitant.

“Hmm?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” they said, “but there’s a crack in the glass.”

It took a moment, but he stopped watering the flowers. Asgore didn’t like to be interrupted and made this well known, but sometimes it was necessary, and a King had to be so tolerant of things. He stood up straight as an arrow and turned to look at the source of the voice.

It was the Royal Scientist, predictably; he was fond enough of her that he didn’t mind the way she tripped over her own tongue. Just as predictably, she was absolutely covered in head to toe with sweat and wringing her hands nervously, but there was something incredibly urgent in her eyes.

“Ah, I see,” he murmured. His tone was serious. “Well, there is certainly no need to apologize. This is an urgent matter, Alphys, and I’m glad you have come to me.”

This seemed to relax her somewhat. “Oh, okay,” she breathed. “Um, good. I mean, it’s _not_ good that it’s so urgent, though, I--”

He held up a hand to silence her. “There is certainly no need to _panic_ either, Alphys.”

She hesitated before correcting him, to her credit. “R-Really, sir? Because um, I’m _really_ sorry, but that glass isn’t supposed to break under any circumstances, a-and if it does, then we’ll all--”

“I’m aware. But you do remember your training, don’t you?”

Even she straightened up at this, her own eyes focused now. “O-Of course, sir. Y-Yes, I do, sir. I would never forget an experience like that, sir. Changed my life.”

“Yes. I do not doubt it did. So what do we do in situations like this?”

She tensed up and reddened under the pressure, but she remained upright and rigid for his benefit. “Oh, I know this!” She said, and then tried to appear more serious again. “I know this one, sir. We call the Queen first, the Royal Guard second, and immediately get to work on the crack in the glass.”

“Very good.” Asgore praised her, his voice deep and steady. “Get to it, then.”

“O-Of course, sir,” Alphys babbled. “I-I won’t let you down, sir. You can count on me, sir.”

His smile was warm and genuine. “I know I can, Alphys. Now run along, please. And hurry.”

There was no urgency in his tone, but she did. A team of scientists would probably be required to work on the glass; they were constantly trying to find new solutions for this problem, and new invincible materials, but it was a struggle to find something that didn’t crack at all. He knew without a doubt that she’d know how to reach the Royal Guard, too; he’d heard something about her forming a relationship with Undyne, and he was glad to hear of it. She certainly would protect them all at any cost.

But it was always a hassle to contact the Queen.

She’d come through, of course. Toriel always did, even when things were so grim between the two of them, so that was not a problem at all. But he still preferred not to see her, not anymore. She was so opposed to the whole of it that she’d even reduced herself to living in a place like the Ruins instead of any form of Home, and she was not at all shy about how she felt about him. It made him appear slightly weak in front of his subjects, which should not have been tolerated.

Still, a King did not put his personal life in front of the well-being of the community at large. He looked out at the garden he’d tended to all these years, riddled and overgrown with golden flowers and greenery, and it looked so peaceful. So unaware of the situation going on elsewhere.

As always, he waited.

* * *

Toriel had been reading so peacefully by the fireside when the call came. It was so jarring when things like that happened, but she’d put her book down immediately, of course. She knew who it was before she even answered the phone.

“Dr. Alphys,” she said, her voice ripe with concern. “Oh, dear. Am I needed?”

The voice on the other end sounded just as uncomfortable as always to be talking, stammering something awful. “Um, y-yes, ma’am. My Queen. If you could get down here, Your Majesty, then we’d really appreciate it. Sorry to bother you like this. Again.”

“It’s no problem at all, dear,” she reassured Alphys, already making her way out the door. “But I would like you to do me a favor, if that’s all right.”

“A-Anything! No problem at all, ma’am. What do you want me to do?”

“Tell Asgore that I am not coming for _him._ ”

There was a bit of an awkward pause. “Y-Yes, ma’am,” Alphys agreed nonetheless. “I’ll um, I’ll let him know that for sure. Definitely.”

“Thank you. See you soon, then.”

“Um, not a problem, ma’am! Bye.”

The scientist hung up the phone as fast as she could manage. It was no wonder; everyone knew of their animosity, but it seemed to make so many others uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine why as she made her way out. It was perfectly obvious to her why she was opposed to this, and much more alarming that no one else _had_ been. But that was today’s political climate, she supposed; they were in the midst of a war. Still, she found herself less and less worried about that and more about other things, as she grew near.

When she did arrive at the Lab, they were so quick to open the door for her and usher her through. They may have been Asgore’s scientists, but they knew to treat her with enough respect when she dropped by, and she was in a tremendous hurry. It was always important to get there before the Royal Guard did, at least, but she was used to this and usually beat them by a few minutes.

“Good morning, your Majesty.” Every single one of them stepped out of her way and greeted her as she walked by.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted them for the sake of politeness, and nothing else. They knew her eyes were cold as all of them immediately got out of her way, a sea of lab coats parting. She barely paid any attention at all to the busy surroundings.

Alphys was the only one in her way. “Oh, thank _god,_ ” she mumbled, probably unaware that she could be heard. “I’m _so_ sorry about this, ma’am. I know you probably don’t exactly like coming here, but we really appreciate it.”

“Oh, I don’t mind it, Alphys. It’s very important that I do. _Someone_ has to, after all.” Her voice was still somewhat cold, and normally she would have felt bad for being so short with them all, but she was merely focused on the task at hand as always. They were people who had made grave mistakes, to be certain, but they were still _people_ , and they were not what was important here.

“Um, okay, well uh, I know you know where it is,” she said, “but I’m required to escort you down there every time with a member of the Royal Guard, so um--”

“I understand.”

“I mean, not _it,_ though,” she corrected herself. At least that was good. “Not _it,_ of course! Sorry. But you know, right? Yeah, so um.” She looked at her watch. “I wonder what’s taking Undyne so long. She’s usually faster than--”

“Out of my _way, nerds!!_ This is urgent Royal Guard business! Sheesh.”

“Oh,” Alphys sighed in relief. " _There_ she is.”

“Yes,” Toriel said flatly. “It would appear to be so.”

Just like that, Undyne came into view, clad in full body armor. Normally, during occurrences like this, she wouldn’t even take off her helmet for anyone to see her face, and she stood to attention immediately. “I’m here, Alphys! Sorry it took me a second to get here. At least now I can finally do what’s _right_ to protect the people of--"

"Hello, dear," Toriel interrupted her with an air of authority.

“Oh! It’s _you,_ ” Undyne spat in a tone of voice that suggested she didn’t respect Toriel’s authority in the least. No one could have expected anything else of her, really. “Fine, whatever, you beat me to it again. Hey, Your Majesty. I’m here to escort you and blah, blah, blah.”

“That is what Alphys is required to tell me.”

Alphys blushed at the attention.

“Okay, well, we don’t have much time! Let’s _go._ Alphys, are you scientist dweebs already working on the--”

“O-Oh, yes!” Alphys blurted out. “O-Of course, Undyne. We got to work on it immediately.”

“Okay, good job! I’m sure you guys’ll do great on this.”

She blushed, even more this time. “Th-thanks, Undyne.”

“No problem, but I can’t focus on how awesome you are right now,” Undyne said somewhat sternly, despite the fact that she had been the one complimenting Alphys in the first place. “We’ve got work to do! I think it’s best that you just come with us since you know this situation best and all.”

“R-Right,” Alphys stammered, going rigid and straight again. “Okay, Undyne. Let’s do this.”

Toriel gave Undyne a glare that was uncharacteristic of her in normal circumstances. “ _She_ knows the situation best, hm? No matter. Come along.” She started to move forward with purpose, paying no mind to the girls accompanying her, but was stopped.

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” Undyne sneered. She didn’t seem apologetic at all. “ _I_ have to lead the way! As Captain of the Royal Guard, I’m charged with your protection, and that includes shielding you from… ... _this_ thing just in case!! So follow _me._ ”

Unlike Alphys, Undyne didn’t bother to correct herself. She didn’t see the need. Toriel gave her another icy glare, then stepped aside. “Very well, then. Lead the way, please, Captain.”

“Of _course_ I will,” Undyne barked proudly, taking her place at the front of the group. It did seem to inflate her ego to be referred to in this way, but Toriel just began to follow her without comment to the elevator. Alphys was close behind, face still red. “Stick with me, okay? No running ahead like _last_ time, Queen Toriel.”

“All right,” Toriel agreed. “But you are obligated to give us _space._ ”

“Pfft,” Undyne scoffed. “Of course I’ll leave you alone with it. Nobody wants to follow you in there _anyways!_ I’m just there in case stuff starts to go down, that’s all.”

“I-It won’t,” Alphys reassured everyone, sounding nervous herself as the elevator descended. “We have strict protocols for this kind of thing, and um, it’s _totally_ under control. We just have to get that crack fixed and work on a better container, and everything’ll be good as new! B-But it’s good to have you, just in case.”

“It doesn’t matter regardless, does it? Nothing will go wrong.” Toriel’s voice was calm.

You couldn’t say the same for the other two. Alphys was trembling with every word she spoke, despite trying to stay so serious and upright, and Undyne was all about projecting bravado. “How do _you_ know? You never know what things like that are capable of! That’s why we have to _contain_ it.”

As the elevator touched down, it took all Toriel had not to go on ahead.

“I know my own son,” she said.

This made Alphys terribly uncomfortable, and she was silent and wringing her hands. It didn’t make Undyne uncomfortable at all, evidently. “ _That_ thing?” She said incredulously. “Come on. We go through this every time! That thing’s not your son, Your Majesty. Not anymore. And you _can’t_ show it sympathy, ‘cuz that’s weakness. That’s just common sense!”

“Is that what Asgore’s taught you?” Toriel asked in a careful and measured way, as she followed Undyne patiently out of the elevator. “I cannot say I’m surprised at this point.”

“Of _course_ it is,” Undyne jeered. As she led the way, the hallways echoed. “Not all of us hate him as much as _you._ If that disgusting thing _were_ your son, Asgore would care, too.”

“Are you certain? How can he care and do this?”

“He cares for _all_ of us,” Undyne growled, still stubbornly leading the charge. “Enough to sacrifice so much to keep us safe and get us out of here to be on the surface! _You_ wouldn’t have done _anything._ ”

“I suppose that’s true,” Toriel admitted. “I would not have ruined the lives of so many.”

“ _UGH,_ ” Undyne complained, her groan echoing off the walls. “Will you just give that a _rest_ already? Asgore’s trying to _help_ us.”

It was getting darker the deeper they went. Had she been permitted to go alone anymore, Toriel would’ve used a lantern, but it was unnecessary with Undyne. Her spear glowed a harsh blue against the darkness, illuminating their way fairly decently. Toriel still wished she wouldn’t bring it; she knew it sometimes escalated situations in ways they did not need to be.

Warning signs were the other source of light, springing to life as they passed. They were green against black and filled to the brim with warnings, at first, then turned red against black as they increased in urgency and went deeper into it all.

“ _AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY_.”

“ _KEEP YOUR DISTANCE_.”

“ _FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY, NO FOOD OR DRINK BEYOND THIS POINT_.”

Humorously, there was a vending machine that dispensed only potato chips near that last sign. One had to figure it was there _because_ people were not allowed food or drink beyond that point, and so could eat a quick snack before proceeding forward, but Toriel couldn’t help but think it somewhat defeated the purpose of the sign. It was too easy to sneak chips past without anyone noticing, she knew.

Asriel had liked those.

“Is that what he calls it?”

They came to a stop just before a wall of scientists, all clustered around one area. She could see now why she had been called here: all seemed normal, with the exception of one rather large crack right in the center of the chaos. They kept it dark enough in there that she couldn’t see anything else, not yet, but she took a deep breath and steeled herself for what she might find inside.

“He is not doing a very good job then, is he? I will be out soon.”

“O-Okay,” Alphys said. “Be careful! I’ll go talk to my colleagues and see what’s happening.”

“I’ll be standing guard outside,” Undyne promised, and she did at least look fully committed to the job. “But if there’s _any_ trouble, I’m under strict orders from the King. So don’t think I won’t follow those.”

“I know you will,” Toriel said with all the contempt in the world, “but don’t forget that those orders also instruct you to try tranquilizers _first._ ”

“I know _that,_ ” Undyne grumbled. She didn’t look too eager about the idea.

This was why Toriel was always in such a rush to get here; it was important to get here first to remind everyone of nonviolent solutions, and that they could just induce sleep. Undyne would’ve always preferred to hurt him, but usually, it was easier just to put him down for a somewhat heavy rest, and she always had lullabies handy for such an occasion…

Still, it was not about that right now, thankfully.

“Excuse me,” she requested as she moved through the crowd. “I am here to see him. Would someone please grant me access?”

All of the scientists crowded around did their best to step out of her way, mumbling apologies and greetings all at once. She was thankful that it was mostly soundproof inside there; she would have hated him to be subjected to so much noise all the time, but she did worry about whether or not their voices all floated down through there through the crack in the glass.

“O-Oh, yeah,” Alphys seemed to realize from beside her. “Sorry about that.” She moved awkwardly through the crowd of monsters, occasionally mumbling greetings to them as well until she got to what she wanted. “St-step back, everyone, please,” she tried to project out into the crowd. “Th-this is dangerous!”

Obediently, the crowd moved to accommodate her.

Toriel moved as well, over towards Alphys. She watched as the scientist placed her yellow hand over a section of the glass, claws and all, and it hummed with the same green as the warning signs. After a moment, an opening seemed to create itself, and everyone moved even further away from it than they had been before, allowing her to move easily inside.

“G-Good luck!” Alphys called out, going back to puzzling over the glass.

She was inside now, without the helpful glow of Undyne’s spear, and it was pitch black.

“Greetings, my child,” she called out into the darkness. She heard the door slide shut quickly behind her and stepped forward, keeping her voice soft and gentle. “It’s only me. I’ve come for another visit.”

Nothing responded at first.

She took a deep breath and continued on. “They told me there is a crack in the glass. Have you had an awful day? I think you should tell me about it if you’d like to…”

Though she would never admit to being afraid of what lurked somewhere in that darkness, she always felt her hands and legs tremble as she fumbled around for the lantern she had hidden. It was just easy to get anxious in such terrible darkness, was all, and she did need at least some amount of light. “I’m going to fetch my lantern now,” she told the darkness. “But it’s only because I would love to see you. You’re such a wonderful boy, Asriel. I love you very much.”

With unsteady hands, she located the handle and swung it up to light a fire. Thankfully, fire magic was so easy for her to use, and she had a steady source of light after a moment. “Would you like to come out and say, ‘hello?’ I’m so excited to be here.” She kept her voice soft and even, knowing that any kind of exclamation might be too much.

Something large shifted in the darkness.

“Ah, there you are.” It was a soft observation and nothing else. “I see you now.”

She saw the shift again and was not intimidated by the vastness of it.

“Have they been feeding you well?” She asked, and there was a real concern in her voice. “I know that for awhile, they gave you only flies… I would like so much to bring you a slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie.”

He moved closer. She kept at it.

“Do you remember the old game we used to play, Asriel? You do, don’t you?” She kept a watchful eye on the patch of darkness that formed around his outline, careful not to shine the light right into his face. “I would make a pie, and then I’d ask, ‘Which do you prefer?’ Do you remember what you’d say?”

Every time he moved, she felt his breath.

“It was a silly game, wasn’t it, for us to play... No wrong answers. You would say--”

“‘ _Cinnamon’s always best._ ’” When the voice came, it sounded as though it were coming from some form of speakers. It was also more of a hissing, and somewhat loud, and she always had to try not to drop the lantern or misdirect it by flinching.

“Very good. You are so good, my boy.”

“‘ ** _Wait!!_** _’”_ The darkness howled, and she felt his breath and spit and anger all at once. Still, she stood her ground, keeping her face and voice even. _“‘Butterscotch,_ ’” he spat after a moment. “I don’t… I don’t remember.”

This voice was her Asriel, and something in her chest fluttered.

“That’s all right, my darling. There are no wrong answers. Would you like to come and see me?”

“I don’t remember which I like best,” said the voice in the darkness.

“I know, my child. It’s okay. I’ll just have to find a way to bring you a piece of pie, hmm? Then you can decide for yourself.”

A beat went by.

“...Mom?”

This was what filled her the most to hear, and she found herself on the verge of tears. “Yes, you are right. It’s me, Asriel. That’s very, very good. I’ve come to see you today. Will you have me?”

He moved closer, and this time the faintest outlines of him were illuminated by her lantern. It took her a few visits to keep from being startled, but this time she barely reacted to the thorny arms outstretched and the faint glow of the screen where the projection of a face was. Even the many eyes could look like a wonderful sight when they belonged to the one you loved so much.

“‘NO,’” he roared, and his teeth clamped together with a loudness she hadn’t anticipated. Still, she was so used to not flinching at all that she barely reacted, taking in a deep breath. “Asriel isn’t _here,_ idiot! _He’s dead as dust._ ”

This hurt and she swallowed hard.

“Would you prefer Flowey, then? I will call you whatever you wish. It hardly matters to me.”

The eyes blinked slightly out of sync. She knew these eyes to be something resembling human eyes, and the first few times, she’d had to leave to get sick. These, more than anything else, were proof to her that she could never forgive Asgore for what he had done. These, more than anything, were the undeniable proof that all of this was wrong. But they were his eyes, she reminded herself again. They were her son’s eyes.

“Yes,” he confirmed, giggling horribly and loudly with his physical mouth. “Howdy! I’m Flowey. Flowey the Flower. I am. It _should_ matter.”

“All right, then,” she nodded slowly. “Then you are lovely as Flowey, too.”

A horrible close-up of a fly flickered across the screen, but she still did not flinch. Sometimes, the screen did things like that. Sometimes, it projected Asriel’s face perfectly back at her, for brief moments (these were the most painful); sometimes, it projected the flower he had been shortly before all this had happened; sometimes, it projected a horrible face, an imitation of a human face, reacting to things with surprise or anger. Sometimes, a crudely drawn child’s smile; sometimes, something else. She had learned to deal with whatever the screen had to use.

More horrible laughter, bouncing off the corridors of seemingly nothing.

“How do _you_ know?” He inquired, and the jaws snapped separately of the words. She did not care. “You don’t even know me.”

By this point, a lump was forming in her throat. “I do, my child. I am your mother.”

“You don’t _understand,_ ” he shouted with both mouths. There was a vine reaching out for her with startling quickness, but she was not afraid. It did not hurt her, anyways; it only reached out to pat her face, and the overall form of him moved even closer to her now.

“What don’t I understand, Flowey? Please, tell me.”

“You’re _not_ my mother,” he insisted. “Sometimes even I think so, but you _aren’t._ And the sooner you come to terms with that, the better off you’ll be. We _all_ will be. I have no mother.”

“Why not, Flowey? Why can’t you?”

“Flowers don’t _have_ mothers.”

She took a sharp breath in. “You are not a flower, little one.”

“No.” The voice on the screen chuckled so awfully, it nearly gave her shivers. “I guess that’s right, huh? I’m _not_ a flower.” The screen projected what he had looked like as a flower nonetheless, and he winked childishly at her as he stuck out his tongue. “I’m something else. I’m a **_GOD._ ** But you like to pretend I’m so small!”

This proclamation and the laughter that followed it were enough to nearly shake the ground below her, and she had to try to stay steady. Still, she was so used to this kind of behavior that it barely fazed her; this form was so large it had resulted in many delusions of grandeur. “Well, whatever you are,” she said, “you will always be my little boy.”

“ ** _HAH!!_** ” He cackled, and she was worried this was too loud as it shook the ground again. They might mistake his volume for aggression and put him to sleep, and she liked to give him a pleasant time if she could. “Is  _that_ what you tell yourself? Does it make you feel better about everything that’s happened? Is that why you keep coming back here, so you can tell yourself I’m _anything_ like he was?”

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “But I do not believe you are any different in the first place.”

More of that laughter. This time, the jaws were so close to her she nearly felt the gigantic enamel of some of his human teeth, but she remained cool under the pressure of it. “Then you’re _stupid._ ”

“If that is the case, I am glad this is what stupidity is.”

“I could crush all of you,” he sang. “That’s why they keep me in here. Because they know I’ll do it. I’ll denounce this entire world and _ruin_ you all.”

“My dear, they keep you in here because your father is a fool.”

“ ** _NO_** _ **!!** _ I can erase the fabric of this _universe._ ” He pressed on, and she watched as the eyes on the screen turned into those familiar red things with green pupils that he seemed to like so much and he retreated into the darkness. “I’ll do it, too. I know all the secrets of this timeline… ...and I know how it can be erased and reformed so that I can watch you die _painfully, over and over!!_ Because that’s what I _want._ ”

Just as suddenly as he could retreat into the darkness, he moved right up into her face, as if to intimidate her. She saw how the whole of him was so huge, now, as she was always reminded whenever he did this and was almost taken aback in spite of herself. From a distance, she could pretend that he was smaller than he was, at least. Up close she felt the breath of a beast and saw how close she was to being clenched in its maw. It was alarming, but he used this tactic to scare her away.

(She was only ashamed it had worked a few times.)

“Where is your son now, Toriel? Where is he _now?_ ”

She stood as tall as she could, still careful not to shine the lantern at him. “He’s right here in this room with me. You may not feel him, but _I_ certainly do. And that _is_ why I come here.”

“No,” he howled. “ _No!!_ Dad says just one more SOUL, Mom.”

She softened, and he did too. “I know, Child.”

“He says it’s just one more SOUL, Mom,” the beast insisted, his screen changing again to that horrible human face. “He says it’s just one more SOUL, and then we’re free.”

“I know what your father says,” she said softly. “I know.”

“Isn’t that good, Mom?” He asked. “I think so. I’ve been hungry, maybe…”

She tried not to be alarmed by comments like this. “Of course you are hungry,” she sighed. “Your father feeds you flies.”

“I _like_ ‘em, actually.”

“Maybe so, but your father needs to learn that you are a growing boy. Not a flytrap.”

“I’m _not_ a flytrap? Golly!” He inquired with genuine curiousness. She moved out of the way as his head tilted curiously. “What am I, then?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“Would you like to hear an exciting snail fact?”

“...Okay.”

“Did you know that snails make terrible shoelaces?”

“I don’t remember that,” he told her so sincerely, as though he were talking casually about the weather. She wanted to pull him close, and also to make sure he got a proper education in here, but she knew for the moment she could do neither one.

“Well, it’s true. They’re awful.”

“I had shoes, didn’t I, Mom?”

“Oh, no. Not often.”

She saw in her own way how he tried to process things, even with so much going on inside of him, and she loved him so dearly for it. It only made her angrier at the current circumstances in the end, at the way they assumed he was manipulative and pushed him back into this darkness to rot. She knew he was capable of so much; she would have been foolish not to know that at any point he could rip her to shreds, and yet, she knew he was capable of being _more._ Toriel knew he tried.

It wasn’t as though Asgore had intended for this, to be fair. If anyone had known _this_ was going to happen, they would not have let it. They didn’t know he would die so brutally at the hands of the humans, and they didn’t know he would crawl back Home to die. She hadn’t known that Asgore would react so severely to it, and certainly, neither of them could have known that he would have resurrected as a flower. And she knew, somewhere deep down, that neither of them could have known that he’d possibly...

But it hadn’t _mattered._ Because even after he’d been forever changed, things had gotten worse. Asgore had insisted that they just needed one more SOUL to complete the plan and waited patiently for one to fall into his lap like the coward he’d always been. Toriel had insisted, and rightfully so, that such a plan was awful. Asriel, or what was left of him, had been caught in the middle of it all; he was stuffed with six SOULs and too big for this world to contain. And yet, somehow, Asgore had been so _surprised_ that it had turned out this way and insisted that his son was dead regardless.

When they figured out how much light hurt him, they built this. When they figured out how much he hurt _others,_ they built this, and it had taken even a few deaths for that to get done. The entire affair had been a mess, and her little boy had been covered with so much dust by the end of it as this towering thing, and sometimes she still had nightmares...

She only worried, now, that he was growing numb to it.

She worried that she would, too, eventually, and the thought of that...

“How did you form that crack in the glass?” She asked, after a moment of thought and silence. “I do hope you have not harmed yourself.”

She knew he couldn’t be hurt by that.

“That can’t hurt me,” he confirmed with a certain giddiness.  “Don’t be naive! I’m practically _invincible,_ now.”

She knew that wasn’t true. He was powerful, but not so powerful that there was _nothing_ that could hurt him. Certainly, with enough persistence, certain monsters had tried; certainly, with enough persistence, certain monsters had nearly succeeded, enough to make her upset. But it seemed to comfort his mind in these dark spaces to believe such things, and she _did_ know he could dole damage out just as much as he could take it.

She knew, even while being so enraged at it, that there was a reason for the container. The best thing she could do for now was hope that he hadn’t been intending to maliciously harm the people outside of it or to convey in the very least that such thoughts were wrong. Mothers always had duties to teach these things, didn’t they? All she could do was figure out why he was attempting to break it.

Of course, Toriel thought, maybe he was just trying to escape. No one would have liked to be cooped up in such darkness all the time… Maybe he had realized his mind was so fragile after spending so much time alone in this form, and maybe if _he_ had she could convince the others of this as well.

“Friendliness pellets,” he chirruped.

Over time, she’d learned that this was his name for the petals made into bullets he’d use to encircle people and things that enraged him. At first, of course, he’d tried to convince everyone that they were harmless, but it was not difficult to tell that they weren’t. Still, enough people would fall for these little tips and tricks that he’d gained so much of a reputation out there…

“Ah,” she said. She would not fall for such things. “I see.”

“Do you know how easily I could kill _you_ with those things, huh?” He was back to his childish giggling about violent things again, but she was careful to have no emotional reaction to it, smoothing her facial features over. “It would be _so_ simple! I don’t even know why they let you come in here.”

“I would never let _anything_ keep me from you, my son.” As she said it, she was also reminding herself, and she watched the light of the lantern play off of some of his thorns. Her tone was resolute. “Not anything in the entire world. Not _even_ the entire world. I can promise you that.”

“Hee, hee, hee.” He was quick to dismiss her words, and the face on the screen was a childish grin now. “Well, _I_ can promise that _you_ don’t have to worry about the entire world. They’re harmless.”

It was nearly unsettling, the way that she could hear him move through the darkness without being entirely sure how he was doing it or how close he would get, but she tried to consider the source of the noise as she heard his large form make its way near. She always promised herself that she would let him get a reasonable amount of close and that the accepted guidelines for such interaction were meaningless, but it was when he started to get this close that she started to bristle slightly.

After enough visits, he knew it, too.

“ _You_ have to worry about _me._ ”

Both mouths rang with this sentiment.

She composed herself, even as bits of spittle found their way onto her fur. With anxiety throbbing throughout her entire body, she was careful to look him right in the eyes, the human ones that she found so difficult to handle. She knew that most would have been scared; she’d seen the way that almost all of them had shied away, even her own ex-husband. With her lip pursed and her back straight, she stared into the face of his demons, the face of her own.

She gazed into the face of Hell and found innocence.

“If I did not worry about you, I would not come here,” she assured him.

When Toriel finally heard the knock that signaled the end of their time together, it was the only thing to truly startle her. He watched her flinch and laughed at it, but didn’t otherwise react; she watched as he slunk, somewhat resignedly, back into the shadows from whence he came.

“Queen Toriel,” Undyne was calling from outside, and she could hear it only because of the slight crack in the structure. “Are you doing okay in there?? I think we have to wrap this up!”

This was always the most difficult part of all. She felt such a tremendous urge to hug him and hold him so close, to tell him that everything was going to be all right. She had so many hopes and dreams for him as a young boy, and they all died every time she left that creature there in his place and told herself that they were one and the same. She needed so much to be more than what had happened to him, to be better.

“Be good, all right?”

Nothing made any promises.

“I love you, Asriel.”

She decided nothing was trying its best.

Toriel wanted so much to be above it, to be better, and yet when they let her out she felt such a significant pang of relief she thought it might bowl her over. Everyone felt the urge to crowd around her to see how it went and to give her some space; she was overwhelmed with questions even unsaid as she stepped back out into a world with at least some light at all. She felt as though her knees might buckle.

“ _Finally,_ ” Undyne exclaimed. “That took forever! Did you do what you were supposed to?”

“O-Oh, my gosh, Queen Toriel,” Alphys asked at almost the exact same time, “a-are you okay? That took awhile.”

She nodded, but there was no expression on her face at all.

When she spotted Asgore off in the distance, she felt utterly nothing for him. It was interesting the way that Asriel had always claimed to feel absolutely no compassion for anyone when hers was so engulfed by one occasional visit, and she tried her best to move past him without even giving the satisfaction of any contact.

“Tori,” he still tried, his voice so full of remorse. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she murmured, almost shoving past him. " _Someone_ has to tend to our son.”

“I know you have a hard time accepting Asriel’s fate, Tori, but he’s…”

She moved as quickly as she could past him. People were friendly enough, but they all blended into meaningless noise as she made her way to the elevator, barely even checking to make sure whether or not Alphys and Undyne were trailing behind her. Undyne had apparently brought someone else along; she was so busy barking orders at a skeleton to get her a drink of water that she nearly missed it.

She couldn’t wait to get home.

When she got back to the Ruins and found that they weren’t home at all, she granted herself permission to sit under the tree outside. It was so old by now, and she took comfort in letting herself rest there, red leaves detaching themselves and falling off nearly every time she blinked.

For the first time all day, Toriel felt she was truly alone.

In that moment, she buried her face into her knees and cried.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, as always. <3 my Flowey Fan Club pin came in the mail today. hee hee.


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